


intentions

by bondofoblivion



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Background Mishima Yuuki/Sakamoto Ryuji, Background Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Grinding, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Minor Violence, Prostitution, Undercover Cops, Undercover Missions, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondofoblivion/pseuds/bondofoblivion
Summary: Going undercover, despite a penchant for veiling his true intentions behind pleasant smiles, was not Goro Akechi’s forte. This case, that his partner insisted they take on, was entirely out of Goro’s element. Akira Kurusu, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned about the potential risks associated with getting himself recruited as a rent boy on the backstreets of Shinjuku.





	1. part i: reputation

**Author's Note:**

> I had a vision of Akira getting Goro to go to a nightclub and this undercover cop AU was born. In this fic, Goro and Akira are posing as teenagers as they attempt to bust a prostitution ring. They were both detective prodigies in their youth and were assigned to be each other's partner on this case.
> 
> Let me know if this turned out to be complete garbage or not on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha) or in the comments!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going undercover, despite a penchant for veiling his true intentions behind pleasant smiles, was not Goro Akechi’s forte. This case, that his partner insisted they take on, was entirely out of Goro’s element. Akira Kurusu, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned about the potential risks associated with getting himself recruited as a rent boy on the backstreets of Shinjuku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's an attempt at an undercover cop AU where Goro, Akira and company pose as teenagers to bust a prostitution ring. In this AU, Goro and Akira were both detective prodigies and were assigned to work together as partners. Here's hoping it's not complete garbage because it was definitely out of my comfort zone to write!
> 
> Hit me up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha) or in the comments with your thoughts!

      Going undercover, despite a penchant for veiling his true intentions behind pleasant smiles, was not Goro Akechi’s forte. This case, that his partner insisted they take on, was entirely out of Goro’s element. Akira Kurusu, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned about the potential risks associated with getting himself recruited as a rent boy on the backstreets of Shinjuku.

       That being said, Goro shouldn’t have been so surprised by how the investigation progressed. 

       Having been a bit of a detective prodigy in his youth, Goro could only assume he was partnered with the most reckless of their numbers as some sort of prank.

       It was only after working with Akira for a while that Goro realized that they were both the youngest, brightest, and most resented of their numbers. Akira had risen from the ashes of infamy, after righting his own unlawful arrest. Proving that his own incarceration had been the result of corruption among his hometown’s officials was enough to call into question what it meant to be a representative of the law and his subsequent success in the field afterward rocked the very foundations of what justice truly meant. Akira Kurusu had proved himself a forced to be reckoned with, while Goro, on the other hand, had been perfect since he first entered the public eye.

       Goro supposed their partnership was to be expected. For, if there existed two things people loathed, it was being wrong about something and the perception of perfection in another.

       Their elders could not have possibly understood the suffering wrought by the events that led Akira and Goro to becoming their colleagues. Akira said as much, about a week after they had been assigned to work alongside one another. 

       That being said, Akira and Goro had been partners since they were both recruited during high school as detective prodigies. Akira Kurusu’s name had been mentioned more than once during a brief internship Goro participated in with the SIU and Goro knew his own name was being broadcast over live television more often than not.

       They were both notorious, in their own right.

       Akira’s infamy, regardless of being acquitted of the assault against a man in power, remained. As did the knowledge of Goro’s tragic upbringing. Goro was advertised as an icon of sorts, being an orphan from nothing who proved the age old ramblings that hard work was what allowed success. 

       Even as he made the rounds and played the part assigned to him, Goro scoffed at the very notion, well aware of how lucky he had been. Even more so, Goro knew he lied through his teeth to get this far and would continue to articulate with the calculation of a serpent to remain where he was.

       Goro could say he pursued this path out of good faith, a sense of morality, but no, he had a chip on his shoulder. Being in a place to help kids who got beat in their foster homes, arresting men and women who staged suicides, and being seen as a hero were all just the perks from living a life where he could ruin the lives of petty human beings who thought themselves better than others.

       He knew he wasn’t as pristine as everyone thought he was. Akira was just one of the only people who didn’t treat him like he was. 

       Akira Kurusu, some street rat who blended well, a man who somehow inspired confidence in the underbelly of Tokyo, existed as rather apt juxtaposition to how Goro could coax the truth from the lips of the higher ups.

       Akira used truth. 

       Goro used lies.

       He really shouldn’t have been surprised by how the night progressed.

       Akira had been radio silent for nearly two weeks before contacting Goro. The relief, though, was brief, because Akira had a plan and the plan needed to go down tonight.

       Goro supposed that was how he found himself outside a crowded club in the Red Light District, having forgone his trademark formal attire in favor of a brand name hoodie, an ostentatious pendant and a flat bill cap with the word ‘hero’ embedded across its exterior.

       Akira said this was the place, that he’d found the location of the club where students, only a few years their juniors, were being recruited and forced into prostitution. 

       Goro hadn’t asked exactly how his partner discovered this information. All he knew was that this type of knowledge required an intimate relationship with the streets and the culture associated with late nights in Shinjuku.

       Goro briefly recalled that Akira had a source in Shinjuku from when he worked behind the bar of Crossroads to get himself through high school. 

       He could only hope that was how Akira knew where to go to pay for sex with teenagers.

       Police work, though, the bust, was something Goro would never pass up. It made up for the lies, and Akira never minded doing the dirty work so that Goro’s hands could stay clean. More than once, Akira assured Goro that was why they made a good team.

       Goro was startled from his thoughts when an arm was thrown around his shoulder.

       “So Akira’s got an in,” The owner of the arm said, and Goro immediately recognized the voice. To his side stood Ryuji Sakamoto — a young officer from another unit. “I was gonna do it, but we put it to a vote and figured you’d be best fit for the job.”

       Goro expected backup, and recruiting the youngest of the surrounding units’s numbers made sense. If they were to infiltrate a prostitution ring, they needed to look the part. The team Akira assembled for this mission seemed more like a statement than a group of men of women who could provide true backup if things went south, but knowing Akira, there was a reason he chose these officers.

       Ryuji Sakamoto was a kid who dealt with an abuser in high school that resulted in a broken leg. Ann Takamaki was a young woman who was being sexually harassed by said abuser, and Yusuke Kitagawa was an artist turned activist from his master’s oppression.

       He supposed it had something to do with adults not listening to children who were suffering. Goro nearly smirked at the sentiment. Akira was anything but vindictive, but he certainly had no qualms with very clearly attacking hypocrisy within the government systems that had failed everyone involved in this case. 

       “Think of it as your inauguration!” Ann offered, calling his attention once more, a clear reference to how Akira, Ann, Ryuji and Yusuke had all been friends since they were teenagers.

       “I volunteered,” Yusuke mentioned, “but Akira insisted that you should do the honors.”

       “Well, he’s the one on the actual case,” Ryuji explained, a bit too loudly for Goro’s taste. Ann was quick to remedy the situation with a quick elbow to the man’s ribs. The blond grunted and dropped his voice to a whisper, but not without a quick glare in Ann’s direction. “To the public, ya know. Granted, I could outrun any trouble, but Akira said it oughta be you.”

       “I don’t intend to let him down,” Goro said with a nod.

       “That’s what we like to hear!” Ann said, “Just be careful. We’ll be in with you, nearby but not close enough to arouse suspicion. We’re here for damage control if things go south.”

       “I do hate to endanger you all like this,” Goro said.

       “It’s truly just another day on the job.” Yusuke replied, dismissing Goro’s concerns.

       “Nonetheless.” Goro said, well aware that Yusuke, Ann, Ryuji and even Akira knew the risks associated with their jobs, and had accepted them with open arms, with little reverence for their own lives if they could protect those who could not protect themselves. 

       As if they could go back in time and save themselves.

       If only Goro could see things in such a way.

       “You’re first, Akechi.” Ryuji said and then Goro entered the nightclub, with the other three officers following shortly after.

       Goro did his best to blend in with the crowds of bodies, though he kept his eyes open and actively searched for the familiar mess of black hair that signified Akira’s presence. 

       Goro was stiff, he knew he was. It was a tedious process, the slow relaxation of his muscles as he forced himself to become fluid in this environment. Unwinding among the masses proved more difficult than doing so for a camera, especially among all the bodies with his vision obscured by flashing lights and the tilted down bill of his hat.

       He simply wasn't accustomed to all the variables. 

       Goro took a deep breath as he maneuvered around the club. He caught sight of Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke all dancing together, though Ann’s eyes locked with his across the space. She seemed sympathetic, but smiled in that reassuring way she had when Akira had first gotten himself injured on the job and she’d found Goro pacing in the emergency room.

       Goro smiled back, and though the gesture felt like sharp pieces of plastic pulling at the corners of his mouth, Ann seemed content enough with his response to look away. He continued his search for Akira, then, wondering when the other man would approach him.

       Goro had to admit that there was something both fascinating and unnerving about this environment, in how strangers found a sense of intimacy with each other in the confines of a room, where names were rarely exchanged. That, however, did little to veil underlying disgust he felt about how adults would manipulate teens to sell their bodies to these drunk individuals, bewitched by the pounding bass that stretched to their bones.

       If Goro didn’t know better, he would believe the steady cadence of the music capable of causing the beating of his heart to falter.

       Suddenly, he became paranoid.

       It wouldn’t bode well to be recognized under these circumstances.

       Wasn’t that what Akira was counting on? 

       For Goro to become invisible among a mass of bodies.

       He wasn’t so sure.

       Goro actively resisted the urge to wrench himself from another’s grasp when hands fell to his hips, a voice, soft but loud enough to be heard over the music resounding in his ear.

       “You’re so stiff,” Akira said.

       Goro released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Akira’s hands guided Goro to have his back be pressed flush against the other man’s chest. The relief he felt recognizing Akira’s voice was palpable.

       Goro was quick to ignore the effect of their proximity, though, how Akira’s presence was sending his senses into overdrive. It was grounding, if not overstimulating to have Akira being the one to lay hands on him like this. 

       He considered again, the environment, the clouds of smoke veiling much of the club. Was this a contact high of sorts? Was a space truly capable of inviting primal urges to the surface — of becoming intoxicating?

       All the same, he allowed himself to slink back against the chest pressed against his back. 

       He shook his head, trying to clear the haze that had settled over his mind. They had a mission and Akira was likely waiting for a response from his partner. Goro craned his neck, then, so his head was canted sideways, a response on the tip of his tongue.

       “A beginner’s mistake in espionage —,” Goro quipped, “do you think anyone noticed?”

       “Not anyone that didn’t need to…” Akira said, and Goro could practically hear that smirk on his lips as he spoke.

       Ah, so he wanted Goro to be noticeable.

       The swaying of hips, guided by Akira’s hands sent a flash of heat to Goro’s face. He was glad that his features were obscured by the darkness of the club. He tensed, though, and Akira’s laughter didn’t go unnoticed, even as he pressed his nose against the back of Goro’s neck in some attempt at disguising the sound.

       “What’s the plan?” Goro asked, then.

       “Relax, and let me lead,” Akira said, lips dangerously close to Goro’s ear once more, as he attempted to guide Goro through the admittedly provocative motions of what was considered dancing.

       Catching sight of Ann across the room grinding against a young man who couldn’t be older than eighteen was jarring, as well as looking towards the bar to see Ryuji sliding a girl a drink who was definitely not out of high school. He noticed Yusuke near Ryuji, his own gaze trailing between the two children (for they were certainly children) that Ryuji and Ann were engaged with. He could almost see the man memorizing their features, surely to sketch their faces in an effort to identify them if Akira’s plan fell through.

       If Goro was to be honest, he would say he was mimicking Ann in an attempt to look more natural in his environment, with Akira pressed flush against his back. He noticed how she arched her back, wound a hand in the young man’s hair and turned her head, pulling his face close to hers, mostly likely in an attempt to get information out of the man, or to ask for a job.

       He couldn’t be sure, but imitated the motion anyway, however humiliating it was to press his ass against Akira’s hips. He thanked the gods that his partner was not hard, despite the outline he could feel of Akira’s cock through his thin and sinfully tight pants. The motion elicited a short gasp from Akira, but he let Goro pull him to mirror Ann’s position with the man across the club, anyway. 

       “If you would elaborate on this plan of yours, Akira,” Goro said, even as he felt Akira’s grip on his hips tighten.

       “We’re playing bait,” Akira said, after a moment. Loosening his grasp on Goro, Akira leaned in ever closer, words escaping him in but a whisper, “ —Well, you are.”

       Goro very actively did not acknowledge how close Akira’s lips were to brushing against his skin.

       “Then, where’s the predator?” Goro asked.

       Akira smirked, tracing a hand up Goro’s arm, unwinding his partner’s fingers from his hair, and brought Goro’s hand, held captive within his own, to his lips.

       “You’re dancing with him,” Akira said, mouth brushing against Goro’s knuckles as he spoke.

       “Akira —,” Goro said, a little breathless. Yet, Akira’s actions were not enough to distract him from their mission, despite how Goro desperately fought the desire to wrench his hand from Akira’s grasp. “What have you done?”

       “Nothing that puts anyone in unnecessary danger,” Akira assured him, guiding Goro’s hand to rest beneath his own on Goro’s hip.

       “I thought Ann would be the target,” Goro responded, eyes glancing over the expanse of the club, searching for the striking blonde of Ann’s hair.

       “A backup, if anything,” Akira noted, voice dipping low, in a dangerous sort of way so that Goro knew he was smirking without laying eyes on Akira. It wasn’t uncommon, for Akira to fall so deeply into the roles he adopted when committed to a case. It’s how Goro knew Ann wasn’t even an option despite Akira calling her a backup just a moment ago. “But I’m the recruit,” Akira added.

       “And I’m the customer?” Goro asked, a soft laugh escaping him, close to caving to the absurdity of the situation he found himself in. Having failed to locate Ann, Yusuke, or even Ryuji among the mass of bodies, he resigned himself to focusing on the rhythm Akira set for them — hoping his brief observations of Ann and that young man from before were enough to help him continue to perform his role admirably.

       “Now you’ve got it,” Akira said, mouth brushing against the back of Goro’s neck as he spoke.

       “I’m here to interrogate your handler, I suppose,” Goro asked, swallowing hard, desperately trying to maintain any air of professionalism with how Akira was moving against him, all hands and lips and heat. Akira was insufferable, but effective in his efforts at whatever he set his mind to, and right now, he was performing his role almost too well.

       “Yeah, but I gotta get you back there,” Akira said, sliding his hands lower, then, fingertips grazingbelow the pullover Goro wore. Goro felt them ghost over the waistband of his pants, before they traveled back up and settled between the sharp lines of his hips. Any lower would have them verging into dangerous territory. “Why else do you think I suggested you dress in these brands? Made sure you were the target?”

       “You wanted me to be uncomfortable,” Goro replied, voice steady even as he fought the urge to fall into the thrall of Akira’s hands. His own were occupied with a mess of black hair, as Akira rolled his hips against him. He was never so glad to be facing away from Akira now. He was sure that his pupils were far too dilated for the workplace. “You wanted to make it look real. As if I were a rich young man, fresh out of the closet, trying to understand the ways of the world.”

       “Then, I’ll proposition you.”

       “And I’ll accept.”

       “And I’ll be gentle,” Akira said, smirk undoubtedly still pulling at his lips. He pressed Goro impossibly closer to himself, “Until you ask me to be rough.”

       The gooseflesh trailing along Goro’s skin must be caused by the intensity of the plan, the danger if things were to go south. It was most certainly not a result of Akira’s proximity and definitely not a result of the other man’s hands on his body.

       “And he’ll be standing on the opposite side of the door,” Goro offered.

       “But he’s not the boss,” Akira replied, nose brushing against Goro’s ear.

       Goro pulled sharply at Akira’s hair, and the sound that left his partner’s lips sounded less irritated and more aroused than anything.

       “— We’ll have to make a scene,” Goro quickly said, in lieu of an apology, hoping to distract himself and Akira from having overstepped his bounds.

       “Also, why I chose you,” Akira replied, rolling his whole body into Goro once more. And that’s when the detective felt it, the hard press of Akira’s cock against his ass. Part of Goro ignored the thought that he’d felt it already, but was in denial, if anything, because dancing like this was likely to get anyone hard, right? All those thoughts, though, left his mind at what Akira said next, “…You’ll have to hit me.”

       “Pardon?” Goro replied, almost aghast. He stilled himself for a moment too long, throwing off their rhythm, the one Akira had so painstakingly coaxed Goro into.

       “Goro,” Akira said, bringing him back to the present, nose brushing against his ear once more, the gesture far more innocent than its predecessor. It was an attempt to get Goro’s attention, to anchor him to reality. It was working, considering how clearly Goro heard what Akira said next. “I know you can do it, to save those girls and boys.”

       “I —,” Goro said. Even as he slowly allowed himself to fall back into Akira’s guidance, his thoughts were more reluctant to stop racing.

       Akira chose Goro for this, because Akira knew that he was capable of darkness, because this time Akira couldn’t get his hands any dirtier than they already were, because Akira trusted Goro to do what needed to be done. Akira knew Goro wasn’t pristine and didn’t expect him to be, though he wouldn’t let anyone else see the difference. This, though, felt like too much. His partner was Akira. Akira was the one he was supposed to protect, because they were the same: the youngest, the brightest, and the most resented. He didn’t want to hurt Akira — and it hit Goro all too quickly that Akira was the first person in his life that he wanted to protect at all costs. If he was forced to hurt Akira, the guilt would drive him insane, wouldn’t it? 

       “How will I overpower the handler, force him to lead me to his boss?” Goro asked.

       “They allowed me to bring in some equipment,” Akira said, softly, the sharp curve of his mouth nowhere to be found as he spoke against the back of Goro’s neck. “To help — that customers might enjoy,” He could feel the edge of a smile then, as Akira hummed thoughtfully against his skin, “I have your gun, brought mine, and made them look like toys with a little help from a prop guy I know.”

       Akira was far too good at his job, and even better at settling Goro down. 

       Goro nodded, determination overpowering anxiety.

       “I’ll threaten him,” Goro said.

       “I’ll cuff him,” Akira added.

       “Then, you’ll leave and I’ll call for backup,” Goro stated.

       “Bingo,” Akira confirmed.

       “So how’s this going to work?”

       “Wanna hear my sales pitch?” Akira said then, and Goro could hear the mischievous lilt to his tone.

       “If you insist,” Goro said, a soft laugh parting his lips, “Enlighten me.”

       The hard and fast turn of Goro’s body so he was facing Akira was startling, and the smirk his partner was wearing was mischief epitomized. 

       “Could I interest you in a mind-blowing night?” Akira said, grey eyes unveiled by the glasses he normally wore. Nonetheless, those storms had Goro transfixed, completely absorbed by his partner’s tactics. “Think about it, where all your kinks are mine — or all of mine are yours,” A soft laugh escaped Akira, as he casually, so casually, slipped a leg between Goro’s own. Akira smiled and then ground their hips together. Goro was nearly aghast at the sound the action coaxed from his form, “I mean, can you really put a price on that kind of a one night stand? — Especially with how hard you are.”

       “I —,” He breathed, bewitched by the images Akira’s pitch cast upon his mind.

       “Goro,” Akira said, calling him from his thoughts. Akira stopped speaking and when Goro’s eyes seemed to focus on his face once more, the other man asked, “Are you hard for me?”

       Goro swallowed hard. He shook his head, and sighed.

       “Not a word, Akira,” He said, “— if anything, this will help sell our ruse.”

       “I didn’t say anything,” Akira said, though the way the corner of his mouth was raised in a half smile had Goro all kinds of suspicious on how the other man would hold this against him in the future. “Ryuji fell for it too,” Akira said, finally leading Goro by the hand from the crowded dance floor. The smile that pulled at Akira’s lips was full of fondness, even as he was pulling Goro and himself into the belly of the beast. Of course, as they were truly about to begin the most important part of their mission, Akira would be speaking so haphazardly about his friends. “Mishima still hasn’t forgiven me. — Well, he says he hasn’t.”

       Again, Goro really shouldn’t have been surprised by how the night progressed.

* * *

 

       Akira led Goro to a door that was manned by a guard. A stunning smile from Akira was all it took for them to be granted access and on the other side was a hallway and a rather imposing man that must be one of the many handlers assigned to the teens who were recruited into this particular ring. He seemed to appraise Goro for a moment, before nodding and leading them to a room that was about what Goro expected. It had low lighting and a western styled bed, with posts and all. He truly would hate to see what a black light would reveal about the space. The handler stood at the door, and Goro removed a wad of yen from his pocket, prepared specifically for this occasion and handed it to him. After a cursory examination, the handler left them alone.

       Seeing Akira in this environment almost disgusted Goro. Of course, this could have been the life Akira lived, had he not risen from the ashes of what was done to him. Now, Akira was here to seek justice, not live in filth. Akira wasn’t truly selling his body to live. He was seeking justice for those who were forced to.

       Against the backdrop of this room, Akira was pristine.

Akira unboxed his equipment, all stored in a case beneath the bed and handed Goro his gun and a holster, opting to stuff his own in the back of his pants. He smirked at having caught Goro staring.

       “For a couple of hours, I’m all yours,” Akira said, an easy laugh escaping him.

       “As if I would stoop to seeking companionship in the form of minors,” Goro replied, sobered by the distance between himself and his partner, the heavy weight of his weapon in his hand and the vision of Akira in this position.

       “I make a pretty good teenager, don’t I?” Akira asked, in what Goro could only assume was an attempt to lighten the mood. 

       This only prompted Goro to truly examine him, how those uniform pants from a local high school clung to his legs, how a graphic tee rested beneath the uniform blazer, rolled up to his elbows, red bandana tied to a belt loop at on his right, all the way down to the red high tops that appear more suited for skateboarding than dancing.

       The guise Akira wore was a costume compared to the striking suits he wore in the office. Akira looked so young. He could easily pass for a teenager and that thought reminded Goro of his own past and how he was younger than Akira when he found himself familiar with such an environment.

       “You do understand that men and women engage in these activities because they are trying to seize power,” Goro said, glance straying from Akira to the door and then back. “The easiest way is to go after those who are younger, defenseless,” He explained, feigning nonchalance.

       There was something solemn in the way Akira looked at Goro, then, all the mirth gone from his features.

       “Yeah, I do —,” Akira said,“You know my story, Goro.”

       “As you know mine,” Goro countered, tone sharp, “Given so, I believe you know how inappropriate it is to insinuate I would ever engage in forcing or coercing a teenager into sex.”

       His gaze drifted to floor and when he looked back up, he was met with the sight of fire within Akira’s eyes. Goro didn’t know when Akira got so close to him. He also couldn’t recall the other man laying hands on him, yet Akira’s palms rested upon his shoulders.

       “Why do you think I insisted we take this case?” Akira said, “I know you want your revenge.” His hands dropped from Goro’s shoulders then, back to his sides, as he glanced toward the door. Goro knew they were on the clock now, and this was no time for sentimentality, but Akira didn’t seem so concerned, instead turning his focus back to Goro. The way his eyes narrowed told Goro that he didn’t intend on looking away again anytime soon. Determination was always the easiest thing to read in those dark hues. “And I’m going to give it to you. I’m taking you straight to the top.”

       Goro scoffed at the notion. So, his earlier assumption was right. Kurusu had insisted they take on this mission in a misguided effort to convince Goro that by doing this, they could go back in time and save themselves.

       “I thought it was you who convinced me that there is more to life than revenge.”

       “When opportunity knocks, Goro —,” Akira said, a small smile pulling at his lips.

       “I see —,” Goro replied,“You want me to take down this man, so that I could take down the demons of my past.” Goro smiled in return, the expression plastic — all teeth and no passion. “How, poetic.”

       “I want you to take this guy down because it’s the right thing to do,” Akira corrected him, “Anything else is just a bonus.”

       “Charming.”

       Akira exhaled sharply, clearly exasperated.

       “Goro, are you afraid?” Akira asked.

       “Of what?” Goro replied, feigning ignorance.

       “Me — like this,” Akira replied, gesturing to himself. He spoke softly, then, gently, as if he was sharing a secret with Goro. In truth, he was. “Is it — too close?”

       Goro didn’t want to look at him, but Akira’s eyes were always his greatest weapon. With his eyes, Akira could inspire confidence in criminals of all trades. If he could conjure faith in those who had learned they could trust no one but themselves, what defense could a detective hold against him?

       “I —,” Goro said, voice so quiet it resembled a whisper, “I only fear what you think of me.”

       Akira smiled, then, the expression melancholy but decidedly genuine.

       “You already know what I think of you,” He said.

       Goro took a deep breath.

       “I only wonder if I looked as pristine as you do here, if you had seen me then, what you would have thought of me.”

       “Pristine?” Akira let out a huff of amusement. Goro arched a brow at his response, but Akira raised a hand in a dismissive gesture before continuing on to say, “Goro, all anyone sees when they look at me is filth. You know how easily this could have been me.”

       “Yet, none of it could ever touch you.”

       “—You told me not to ask, so I won’t,” Akira said, shaking his head, “but know that if I knew all the gruesome details of what was done to you, what you had to endure to get to where you are, I wouldn’t hesitate to exact justice.” His eyes glinted in the sparse lighting of the room and if Goro hadn’t already believed Akira capable of being a man who would do anything to protect those he cared about, he would have with his next words. What Akira said was a promise, “ — I’d live up to my reputation.”

       Something about the fire in Akira’s gaze inspired and terrified Goro. He couldn’t recall a time someone had sounded so devoted when speaking to him. He merely nodded in response.

       “Akira — remember that you said you wouldn’t hesitate.”

       “I will.”

       “Then, don’t.”

       Goro had never hit someone he cared about so hard. Akira was cupping his jaw, smiling widely so that Goro could see the blood staining his teeth as he turned toward the door, all before Goro even had his gun drawn. Akira forced open the door with a kind of haste that resembled fear. The guard must have heard something because he was already corralling Akira back in the room before he could escape, shutting and locking the door behind him. He looked at both of them, gaze lingering on Goro, who had his gun aimed at the handler.

       “He was asking for it,” Goro spat, gun aimed at the handler.

       “I — I didn’t know what to do,” Akira explained, cowering behind the handler,“You told me I could pay off my debt. You didn’t say it’d be this dangerous.”

       “How the hell did you get a gun in here?” The handler said, and then, suddenly realization alighted in his eyes, his gaze shifting to Akira. “Wait, didn’t you —?”

       “Ah,” Akira said, and Goro didn’t have to see to know that he was now holding his own gun against the man’s lower back, “Looks like I’ve been found out.”

       Goro grinned at Akira from where he stood, before focusing once more on their captive.

       “I believe it would be in your best interest to take us to the man in charge,” Goro said, “That is, if you value your life.”

       The handler was surprisingly cooperative as Akira cuffed him. And with a quick call to Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke, the case wrapped itself up rather quickly. The leader of this particular prostitution ring was sure to end up behind bars for the rest of his days with the help of a certain lawyer Goro knew. Makoto Niijima held very little sympathy for criminals and Akira was certain that her wife, Haru Okumura, a social worker he had gotten to know quite well in high school, would be able to coax enough of the victims of the man to testify against him to lock him up for life.

       As Goro and Akira exited the club, Goro was met with the sight of the young boy he saw Ann with earlier, hugging her around the neck and the girl Ryuji had been talking to held a vice like grip around the blond’s waist. Goro turned to Akira and smiled, a real smile that made his jaw ache in a way that was surprisingly pleasant. Akira matched it before patting Goro on the shoulder and pointing to the paparazzi and news teams, which had swarmed the place as soon as sirens had been heard in Shinjuku.

       Akira disappeared among the officers of other units that had shown up to help apprehend the man in charge and his underlings, leaving Goro to do what he did best. Certainly, he felt a surge of pride at successfully apprehending the vile humans behind this prostitution ring, but what was truly fulfilling was seeing how grateful the victims were to have been rescued from their hopeless situations. Maybe, in a way, Goro could save himself by doing this everyday. And perhaps, Akira had been right when he suggested that doing the right thing could have a bonus of sorts.

       If Goro Akechi had learned anything from his time with Akira Kurusu, it was that Akira always had the best intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II will be posted July 3rd!


	2. part ii: expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro pinched the bridge of his nose, scrutinizing the stack of paperwork that rested before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, well, I can explain why this took forever to update. Actually, I can't beyond telling you guys that I got really into cosplay and everything else fell to the wayside. The good news is, I've got part iii almost done!
> 
> Friendly reminder to hit me up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/amgedpha) or in the comments with your thoughts!

      Goro pinched the bridge of his nose, scrutinizing the stack of paperwork that rested before him. The adrenaline from the bust and the swell of pride from successfully apprehending many of the men involved in one of Shinjuku’s less savory pursuits had him restless, so Goro chose to return to the office to get a head start on the paperwork that would undoubtedly follow such an arrest. He was still in the clothes Akira deigned he wear for the operation and was about a quarter of the way through the stack when he started to come down from the high of it all.

       It was cathartic, in a way, to save those kids. To the cameras, he had said it was simply his job to put an end to at least one facet of the injustices that were going on right underneath their noses, but as Akira had not so subtly implied, there was more to it than simple duty. Playing such a pivotal role in the rescue of those teens had something else working at the knots in his chest.

       And Akira chose that moment to make his presence known.

       “I knew I’d find you here,” Akira said, still in his bastardized Shujin Academy uniform.

       “I truly couldn’t imagine sleeping after a night like this,” Goro confessed, a haphazard smile pulling at his features.

       “Yeah, I feel that…” Akira responded, a soft laugh escaping him, even as he scratched at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture if Goro ever saw one. Goro chose to ignore the action, certain that if Akira was upset or anxious about something, he would inevitably confess. After all, they had certainly come a long way since first being forced together as partners.

       Back then, Goro had been ruthless. Yet, now, if he was ever referring to Akira as _Attic Trash_ , it was with unmistakable fondness rather than contempt.

       “So, I assume you escaped unscathed as usual,” Goro said more than asked, despite the obvious bruise forming on Akira’s cheek. He didn’t allow himself to focus too much on the injury, knowing that he was responsible for it.      

       “Of course,” Akira responded, a confident smirk pulling at his features.

       “I expect nothing less,” Goro said with a nod, before returning his attention to the form before him, a quick motion of the pen in his hand had his signature placed at the bottom of the page.

       “Do you need any help?” Akira asked, reclaiming Goro’s attention.

       “Oh,” Goro said, meeting Akira’s gaze and shaking his head, “no —. I plan to leave at least half of what I don’t finish tonight on your desk.” He smiled and teased, “Though I feel as if I should force you to do all of this since I have to deal with the press all the time.”

       “How can I ever repay you?” Akira replied, laughing.

       “You could share Sojiro’s curry recipe,” Goro answered, the mischievous grin pulling at his lips indicative enough that he was far from serious.

       While transactions were par for the course between most partners, Goro distinctly recalled when Akira approached him with a pact of sorts. It had been in the first few months of their being assigned to work together. Akira had effectively sewn himself into the patchwork of Goro’s life by confronting him. And over a cup of coffee in a cafe walking distance from the precinct, they came to an understanding. From thenceforth, Goro Akechi and Akira Kurusu would be equals. There was nothing they could ever owe one another and there was nothing to prove to each other.

       Being so honest with someone was something foreign to Goro.

       Then, it had been intimidating to know how Akira could already see right through him.

       The burden of such a fact was difficult to carry.

       But, it was only a few cases in that Goro began to feel the relief of their oath. The weight — the expectations — were gone and Akira and Goro were rising through the ranks by their own merits, rather than bumping elbows with the higher ups.

       “He’d never let me live it down if I did,” Akira said, “But I’d be more than happy to treat you to dinner sometime. — Speaking of, how long do you plan on sticking around?”

       “It’s far too late for dinner if that’s what you are trying for, Akira,” Goro replied, a tired huff of amusement escaping him. He glanced to and from the paperwork before him. All the words seemed to blur together. He sighed.

       Akira noticed. Of course he did.

       “Come on, Goro,” Akira insisted, “Come back to my place — you said yourself that you couldn’t sleep. I’m surprised you’re able to focus.”

       “You have this uncanny ability to see right through me, Akira,” Goro admitted, a halfhearted laugh escaping him. “Honestly, I find myself restless. I suppose going undercover — posing as a civilian — if you will, isn’t what I generally specialize in.” Goro’s teeth worried his lower lip, grip on the pen in his hand tightening. “It’s left me a bit on edge. Tell me — how do you come down from it all?”

       Akira seemed to consider Goro’s question for a moment. 

       Then, his lips curved into a grin.

       “I remind myself of who I am behind the badge,” Akira said.

       Goro eyes narrowed at his companion, skepticism etched into his features.

       “I’m serious,” Akira said, a soft laugh escaping him. “With the roles I have to fill and the characters these cases demand I embody, I remind myself who _I_ am.” He scratched the back of his neck, another nervous tick, before meeting Goro’s gaze. If Goro hadn’t been paying attention, he wouldn’t have noticed how Akira’s voice dropped ever so slightly in pitch. “I look at who Akira is, besides a detective. What he thinks, what he feels, his — _desires_.”

       Goro did his best to ignore how Akira’s gaze never strayed from him despite the brief hesitation that preceded his declaration of ‘ _desires_.’ He also certainly blocked any and all thoughts of their interactions in the nightclub, the feel of Akira’s hands on him, the sound he had wrenched from Akira’s throat with a too hard tug at the other man’s hair, and how Akira had his back, physically on the dance floor and metaphorically against the memories this operation coaxed to the surface of his psyche. He might not be aware of what all Akira desires, but he understood his own well enough.

       That’s to say, of course, that Akira appealing to his more base instincts wasn’t exactly a foreign concept. Akira possessed a raw magnetism — that much was apparent. And Goro could claim that he could never understand how someone so plain could conjure such an intense reaction within him, but that would be a lie.

       It was all in Akira’s eyes, once again carefully concealed by lenses he didn’t need.In the form of his glasses, Akira seemed to wear a mask between himself and the world around him. How two thin pieces of glass served as sufficient barrier between him and the outside world, Goro could never understand. 

       Regardless, Goro was certain he was captivated by Akira’s eyes. Perhaps it was the glint in grey hues when he cracked a case, or maybe it was the way his smile stretched to his eyes when he laughed. Or it might just have been that after being able to read everyone he ever saw, Akira had been impossible to decipher. Either way, Goro knew he was drawn to Akira. He had been drawn to his companion since he first saw him, since he first heard whispers of his name.

       And Akira, he seemed drawn to Goro too.

       Yet, despite the fog clouding his mind and the restlessness that settled deep into his bones that demanded he act upon his impulses, Goro simply smiled and pressed all of his thoughts back underneath a lid he kept carefully in place. He opted for pleasantries in the place of potential vulnerability.

       After all, Goro would certainly implode if he allowed himself to truly consider the implications of Akira’s very pointed statement. _Desires_. His, Akira’s, or both’s — were primal urges he couldn’t allow himself to linger on, not when the cost could be the loss of his most trusted confidant. 

       “Coffee and the company of your cat,” Goro found himself saying, in lieu of even commenting on Akira’s accentuated mention of desire.

       “I don’t mind having my partner around either,” Akira replied, not missing a beat. Grey eyes had yet to trail from Goro’s form. For a moment, Akira seemed to ruminate before he said, “Though he sometimes seems to need too be reminded where he stands.”

       Suddenly, Goro understood where his partner was coming from. He was pressing, ever so gently, at Goro’s aversion to discussing his past. It seemed Akira hadn’t forgotten how Goro had dismissed his concerns in favor of completing their mission. His head dropped, the words on the paper before him morphing into a mass of incoherent letters. Despite being defeated, Goro smiled — though he couldn’t hide how the expression was fragmented along the edges.

       Not from Akira, at least.

       “Ah, you wish to talk about what I said…” Goro replied.

       “You were great,” Akira responded, as if it were the simplest deduction he had ever made.

       “Akira, there’s no need to —,” Goro protested. 

       While Goro made his career out of brushing off the accolades of the public, with Akira it was different. The certainty in which his companion complimented him urged the corners of his mouth to curve into something genuine. The same feeling of the loosening knots in his chest returned. Surely, Akira would be his undoing.

       “I mean it, Goro,” Akira had interjected, “You were great. Right now — tonight — and even when you don’t ask me what I think of you.”

       Goro considered his response carefully, conflicted between the truth and deceit. He inevitably chose opting for as close to truth as he could manage — for Akira had a penchant for keeping him honest anyway. 

       He’d leave the rest for the therapist he paid far too much in return for what he deemed strikingly few results. At such a musing, he swore he could hear Akira’s voice in his head, objecting at such an assertion. He knew the Akira in reality would agree, having been the one who convinced him to attend sessions in the first place. This man was truly far too tangled in Goro’s life for him to ever be free from.

       “I — truly don’t know what came over me, Akira,” Goro confessed, eyes focused on the jumbled letters of the paperwork that would still be there the next morning. “It was just too much, almost,” He continued, eventually finding the courage to meet Akira’s gaze, “I was very much alone in my pursuit of justice growing up. You had a name made for yourself — I had to make my own.”

       “Which meant doing the dirty work,” Akira finished, seemingly aware of where Goro was going with this. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “— Why do you think I insist on being the man who puts himself on the frontlines? Remember what I said about not hesitating? You’re my partner, Goro. I’m always going to do what I can to protect you.”

       Goro didn’t know why he found himself caught off guard by Akira’s response. It was the other man’s modus operandi, after all, to surprise him like this.

       “I — uh —I held back when I hit you,” Goro responded, in a desperate attempt to deflect while he processed such a blatant assertion that someone else cared for him to such an extent.

       Perhaps Akira’s desires weren’t so base. Maybe he wanted something else? Or could it be that he desired nothing for himself at all? What if he truly desired to give something to Goro instead?

       “Is that so?” Akira replied, a small huff of amusement escaping him.

       “Call it a show of my own form of protecting you,” Goro said, as he stacked the papers he was working on in a neat pile, refusing to meet Akira’s gaze.

       “Yeah, and Goro…”

       “Yes, Akira?” Goro said, standing from where he sat.

       “I —,” Akira started, voice cracking. He laughed and Goro couldn’t help the grin that pull at his lips in response.

       “Would you like to try that again?” Goro offered, eyes finally finding Akira’s.

       “No,” Akira said, waving his hand as if to dismiss the notion, even as another soft laugh escaped him. “That actually sounds about right.” Goro watched as Akira removed the glasses that seemed such an impenetrable barrier between them as he approached his desk. The frames were laid delicately upon the surface, grey eyes lingering on the wood beneath them before returning to Goro’s.

       “Akira…?” Goro asked, resisting the urge to swallow hard.

       “I need to know,” Akira said, “Did you feel something out there?”

       Somehow, Goro was equal parts startled and unsurprised at the question. What truly shocked him, though was how quickly and decisively he responded to Akira’s inquiry.

       “I am hard-pressed not to feel many things when I’m around you,” Goro replied, the words escaping his mouth without the urgency he had once imagined they would. 

       It _was_ a confession, of sorts. Goro could not deny that, regardless of context. Blaming sleep deprivation or adrenaline could perhaps help him escape the metaphorical corner he back himself into, but tonight had turned into more than a simple case. It had become a night about facing the truth, no matter how ugly, alongside his partner. 

       Regardless of consequence.

       Akira stood opposite of him, grinning so widely that Goro was almost certain his face would split in two. The smile stretched to his eyes, unobscured by lenses that would normally hide them.

       “And I’m not —,” Akira said, “I’m not just interested in a one night stand.”

       The thought hadn’t crossed Goro’s mind, that sex could have been all Akira was looking for. That, in all fairness, seemed a suitable way to release the tension that seemed to settle in his spine. Regardless, it was nice to hear Akira not only clarify but stumble over his words. Calm and composed was such a common look upon his counterpart, but this was just as stunning. This version of Akira was nervous and bumbling, the man behind the badge indeed.

       “This is — highly inappropriate,” Goro said, though his smile undermined any formality.

       “That’s not a no,” Akira responded.

       “Akira,” Goro sighed, shaking his head, though the grin he wore remained firmly plastered to his features. “You must know this won’t be simple.”

       “Why not?” Akira asked.

       “It just can’t be,” Goro said, the line of his mouth curving into a frown as he recalled the effect seeing Akira in a backroom at a nightclub had on him. “Not with me.”

       “Goro, you trust me,” Akira said, moving around the desk. Goro turned to face him, even as the other man continued speaking. “How many people can you say that about?” Akira’s hands reached out, seizing Goro’s in a grounding yet loose grasp. Goro knew he could pull away if he wanted. Instead, he chose to consider Akira’s reasoning, especially when he said, “How many people would you have allowed to lay hands on you like that?”

       Akira’s logic was sound, his touch comforting.

       It appealed to all of the urges that Goro kept carefully contained.

       But worse was, it piqued his curiosity.

       Despite himself, he wanted to know more.

       “You’re not going to drop this,” Goro said, not putting up nearly as much of a fight as he believed he ought to. “Are you?”

       “You know me too well,” Akira said, threading their fingers together.

       “What ever happened to no meaning no?” Goro asked quietly, looking aside.

       “C’mon, Goro.” Akira replied. He paused and only when Goro looked back into his eyes continued, “We both heard you. And you didn’t say no.”

       It was overwhelming, being this close to Akira, looking straight into grey eyes that his partner hid from everyone and seeing nothing but sincerity reflected in them. It was awe inspiring, much like everything having do with Akira often was. Part of Goro realized that he had once envied this trait of Akira’s, to be so captivating by nature. In fact, he had loathed his companion for it when they first crossed paths because he quickly learned that there was nothing spectacular about him but the fact that he refused to back down when wrongfully implicated. He had a normal background, was from an affluent family, and was in the right place at the right time. But now, he knew better. Goro felt lucky to be on the receiving end of Akira’s gaze. For, if everyone saw Akira as the center of the universe, the look in his eyes made Goro seem like he was the center of his.

       It was almost too much, how he wanted to pry himself from Akira’s grasp but bury himself in it.

       “So,” Goro said, freeing his fingers from Akira’s grasp and stepping back out of the man’s space, if only so he could think a little clearer. “Coffee and a chat at yours?” He offered.

       “You’re even inviting yourself over for the night,” Akira said, that dumb smile reaching all the way to his unobscured eyes.

       “For coffee, Akira,” Goro chided, though the expression he wore could only be described as one resembling fondness. “I’m only intending to hear you out.”

* * *

       Akira regaled his tale of how he infiltrated the prostitution ring over a cup of coffee. Thoroughly enthralled, nearly all thoughts of Akira’s earlier proposition fled Goro’s mind. One one hand, the familiarity of the situation was comforting. On the other, it sent Goro’s anxiety into overdrive. Maybe Akira had been right when insisted that ‘this’ could be simple. Maybe Goro had been paranoid when he suggested it could not possibly be, not with him, at least.

       “ — Then, my source was pushing Lala to get me into drag,” Akira explained, drawing Goro’s attention from his own tumultuous thoughts. “What was I going to do, say no? She seemed so confident that the ruse would pay off.”

       “I don’t know why you continue to pretend Ohya has any sort of anonymity — I’ve known you for years, Akira,” Goro said, a soft laugh escaping him. “Surely, you trust that I would not compromise her identity now.”

       “See this,” Akira stated. “It’s that trust thing I was talking about.”

       Goro rolled his eyes at the devilish grin adorning his partner’s face. The remark was teasing yet calculated, a gentle nudge in the direction Akira seemed to want him to go, all in the guise of a challenge. Akira Kurusu knew him far too well.

       “Perhaps I’d be more inclined to participate if you were to practice what you preach,” Goro countered, an equally smug grin pulling at his lips. 

       Akira didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he clicked his tongue and even through the glasses he wore, Goro could tell his partner was in some repose of rumination, carefully considering his next words.

      “I guess old habits die hard,” Akira explained, his voice soft, almost as if he were talking to himself. He looked up and smiled then, continuing his story as if he hadn’t stopped. While Goro was curious about the sudden change in demeanor of his partner, he didn’t pry. He would, as Akira asked, trust the other man to open up to him. Even so, Goro tried not to consider how Akira wanted him to open up, too. “So I let Lala doll me up,” Akira continued, “just so Ohya could introduce me to one of the scumbags who frequently dropped a lot of cash at that ring. He said that he’d have me. And get this, I’m a 25 year old posing as a 16 year old dressed as a woman, thinking about how I’m going to get myself out of this when Lala literally walks around the counter and throws the man out the door of her bar without breaking a sweat.”

       The image Akira’s tale conjured in his mind was enough to distract him.

       “I’m sure you were quite a sight in a skirt,” Goro said, without thinking.

       “Play your cards right and I might show you what it’s like,” Akira offered, a sly smile pulling at his features. 

       Goro paused, eyes widening ever so slightly before he schooled his features. There it was, the difference that Goro had been looking for until this moment. Akira’s subtle flirting suddenly held meaning. It was a challenge, one that Goro could not longer pretend meant nothing to him. Nonetheless, a nervous laugh escaped him.

       “You can’t be serious, Akira,” Goro said.

       “As a heart attack,” Akira replied.

       The two were quiet for a moment. Goro again considered what it was that Akira was waiting for. Why had he yet to broach the topic they specifically came here to discuss? Then, it hit Goro. A mere few hours ago, he had erected a wall between. Goro wanted the past to remain in the past. No — he needed the past to remain there and Akira was waiting for him. Part of him wanted to laugh at the notion, because in some ways, it seemed Akira had always been waiting for him. He had waited until Goro became less hostile before approaching him with a truce. He had waited until Goro was open to discussing his past until asking about it and he had stopped when Goro said he would say no more. And Akira always waited until Goro was 100% on board with a case before accepting it.

       Now, he supposed Akira was waiting for his word.

       If pursuing a potential relationship with Akira was something Goro really wanted, Akira was going to make him ask for it. And to do that, Goro would have to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

       Goro would have to make his intentions clear.

       But first, he wanted to understand Akira’s.

       And for that, he would have to start slowly.

       “What was the real reason you wanted me to serve as bait, Akira?” Goro asked, recalling the moments before he stepped into the club. “Ryuji and Yusuke mentioned that they both volunteered to serve my role.”

       “This was your fight, Goro,” Akira simply explained.

       Clearly, Goro had revealed his hand without intending to. While it was public knowledge that Goro Akechi was responsible for singlehandedly bringing down another prostitution ring in his youth, Akira had read between the lines. From his brief stint as a ‘new recruit,’ Akira had learned more about Goro than he’d ever known before, more than Goro ever intended on him knowing. And being in that club, with Akira, had sent shockwaves through Goro’s system.

       He’d never be pristine, but Akira still looked at him like he was.

       “I — in retrospect — appreciate the opportunity,” Goro conceded. The sentiment sounded disingenuous and like many of his attempts to show appreciation, it was scripted. Beyond that, though, was true sincerity that he couldn’t quite summon to the surface. Goro was beyond grateful that he had been allowed the opportunity to incarcerate and potentially put an end to the extortion of those teens. He was elated that he hadn’t needed to resort to the measures that he had when he was younger. He, that night, had been the change he wanted to see in the world.Akira Kurusu gave him that. He gave him the ability to move forward freely, the weight upon his shoulders lighter than it had been in years. And Akira, he was also giving Goro the opportunity to move forward with him, if he so desired. “I truly cannot thank you enough. Akira, I —.”

       “I mean,” Akira interjected, cutting Goro off. “ — Did I enjoy having you literally grind on me? Of course, but that’s not what you were there for. You know I’m not that kind of guy, unless, of course, you want me to be.” Akira punctuated his statement with a wink.

       Goro rolled his eyes, which had him releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This man was truly insufferable. Part of Goro abhorred how in tune Akira seemed to be with his mannerisms, but another part was grateful that the other man recognized and catered to his anxieties. never allowing Goro linger too long on potentially debilitating trains of thought.

       “You must have been able to tell that I’ve never truly done anything like that before,” He noted, welcoming the distraction.

       “I guessed so much,” Akira replied, “but I need to bow at the feet of however taught you how to move like that.”

       Goro felt heat traveling up his neck at how crass Akira was being. It was definitely going to take him a moment to acclimate to Akira referring to him in such a fashion.

       “I was taking cues from Ann,” He explained.

       “Thank the gods for Ann,” Akira said, a small laugh escaping him, which Goro couldn’t help but reciprocate.

       Once upon a time, he would have vehemently rejected the infectious nature of his partner’s smile, but now, he welcomed it.

       “Perhaps you’d like to go dancing again, when we’re not on the job.” Goro offered, only slightly annoyed to realized that he was now the one asking Akira. 

       He loathed him. (He adored him.)

       “I thought you’d never ask,” Akira replied, “but it doesn’t really seem like your scene.” He leaned towards Goro, dropping the pitch of his voice for the second time this night. “We could always just stay in, you could teach me how to waltz…”

       “How kind of you to offer the opportunity to see your face,” Goro countered.

       “It’s just so I can see yours.”

       “As a teenager, I would have eviscerated you for saying something like that,” Goro replied, mouth curved in a poor imitation of a dangerous smile. There were no pointed edges capable of cutting in his words or his teeth, though the dull ache of his jaw might protest.

       He truly hadn’t smiled this much in ages.

       “As a teenager, you did eviscerate me for saying something like that.”

       Briefly, Goro recalled them both being fresh out of high school and tossed into their new roles among men and women almost twice their age. He remembered how Akira had been less than subtle before realizing who Goro was. Akira had backed off then, but not without having been cut to pieces by the sharp smile and even sharper tongue of one Goro Akechi. 

       Thankfully, they were over that, too.

       “How time flies,” Goro said with mock sentimentality.

       Akira sighed, the gesture just as wistful before his mouth once again curved into a grin. “Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll do that now.”

       Goro nodded in agreement before he even realized what he was doing.

       “No, I won’t,” The elder of the two noted. “Admittedly, it was terribly difficult forcing myself to hit you back at the club.” Goro met Akira’s gaze and embraced the other man’s idea of trust when he continued, “Hurting you is truly the farthest thing from my mind now.”

       Akira looked away from Goro then, gaze locked on the floor beneath his feet before his eyes closed. He smiled, in a way Goro hadn’t truly had the pleasure to see before. It was unabashed in a way his expressions never were when he was wearing glasses.

       But Goro could see it now, even with the frames obscuring Akira’s profile, it was an expression just as honest as the words from his mouth had been.

       He was almost struck with how Akira truly hadn’t walked into this conversations with any expectations.

       And Goro found himself smiling just as honestly, too.


End file.
